


There Are Dead Bodies Beneath the Cherry Trees

by saturnalyia



Category: Monsta X (Band), 걸어 | All in - Monsta X (Music Video)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Im Changkyun | I.M/Yoo Kihyun, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, You Have Been Warned, but its based on the All In mv, not sure how to tag, so its dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnalyia/pseuds/saturnalyia
Summary: Ashes flutter from the sky like snow. The purple flower in Minhyuk’s pocket is as light as a feather, but it weighs heavily on him, on them all.Based on the All In MV.
Relationships: Chae Hyungwon/Lee Minhyuk
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	There Are Dead Bodies Beneath the Cherry Trees

**Author's Note:**

> title from the short story by motojirō kajii, "beneath the cherry trees"

**One.**

The sound of sirens blares overhead. They don’t have long before they’re found. Minhyuk can hear explosions in the distance. But they’re out of the town now, they left just in time, and they’re going to make it out. 

All of them. They’re  _ all _ going to make it out.

Minhyuk’s left cheek stings, but he doesn’t have time to think about that. There’s not much time left, the explosions are getting louder, destroying everything in their wake.

They need to find Hyungwon.  _ Minhyuk  _ needs to find Hyungwon.

And Minhyuk  _ will  _ find Hyungwon, if it’s the last thing he does.

Ashes flutter from the sky like snow. The purple flower in Minhyuk’s pocket is as light as a feather, but it weighs heavily on him, on them all.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Things were easier, before. Not  _ better, _ but easier. 

They lived in a small town, and — dilapidated and wracked with poverty as it was — it was still home. The seven of them would gather in the narrow, winding streets behind the tin shacks where most of them lived, and sometimes it was even possible to pretend that they were happy. 

It wasn’t easy to forget, but sometimes — sometimes they would find an old tire to kick around, or Hyunwoo would get a metal pipe from god knows where for them to play fight with, and Minhyuk would stop worrying about where his next meal was going to come from, or whether he would still have a roof over his head the next day, or who the next person shot dead in the streets by the militia would be.

Other times, Hyungwon would smile at him, and Minhyuk would forget that their lives were fleeting and filled with suffering. And he would feel a flicker in his chest, something he’d never felt before, something that he’d come to realise was called  _ hope. _

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hyunwoo was sort of their leader, had that quiet sort of maturity that none of the rest of them could even hope to emulate. Maybe it came from losing his parents at a young age and having to care for his ailing grandfather. More likely, it was just how he was.

The other side of the coin, Jooheon was their revolutionary. Young, and constantly furious at the unfairness of their society, at the violence that the central state used to oppress the outskirts, at  _ everything,  _ really. Because everything was horrible and everything was worth being furious about.

Minhyuk wasn’t furious. He was too scared to be furious. 

How could he not be scared? When he’d been the only one there, when the military police had taken issue with the way Kihyun had  _ laughed too loudly _ while playing hopscotch. When he’d watched, paralysed by fear and wracked with guilt at his inability to  _ do anything.  _ Just watched as a grown man — though on reflection he really couldn’t have been older than twenty-five — had stomped on Kihyun’s shins with those heavy, chunky combat boots and snapped his bones in half.

They'd been  _ eight years old. _

That was over ten years ago, and Kihyun still can’t walk properly, his bones having healed awkwardly since none of them could afford any proper medical care, never mind that there wasn't even any proper medical care available to people like them.

Every time Minhyuk sees Kihyun with his crutches, his heart clenches in panic and he realises once again that there’s no use fighting. The state is a cruel, relentless machine, and it will always,  _ always _ win.

So Minhyuk prefers to stay in the back alleys. He knows better than to provoke. 

Jooheon, on the other hand. Jooheon isn’t afraid of anything. Jooheon prowls the main streets, determined to protect the people who can’t protect themselves. 

(What he doesn’t know is that there’s no way to protect anyone. The only way to stay safe is to hide. Minhyuk learned this a long time ago.)

Hyunwoo goes with Jooheon, because Hyunwoo always does the right thing. No matter how difficult, how scary, how self-sacrificial it might be. 

No matter how much Minhyuk hates it, and how much Minhyuk tells him so.

Here's the worst thing:

Hyungwon goes too.

Minhyuk doesn't get it, except in a fucked up way he does — because where Minhyuk is jaded and has given up on dreaming about a better life, Hyungwon is beautiful and heartfelt and still believes that they can change the world. 

Hyungwon is wrong. Minhyuk knows that Hyungwon is wrong, but Hyungwon still believes and Minhyuk can’t stop him, so every time they go wandering through the main streets, Minhyuk sits on the barren hill overlooking the town and watches. Begging and praying to the gods who don’t exist that he won’t have to watch another one of his friends get hurt.

Some part of him knows that they will, in the end. He knows better than to expect otherwise.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“I hate this,” Minhyuk says. 

He can see the guards harassing the shoe sellers in the main street. The old men aren’t doing anything wrong — like eight year old Kihyun hadn’t done anything wrong — this is just part of the programme of fear used to keep the citizens under the thumb of the state.

From his vantage point, he can see his friends, rounding the corner. He already knows that the confrontation is inevitable. 

Guilt tears at him as he realises that he would rather those innocent old men be killed, than his friends. It shouldn't be one or the other, but that's the world they live in and if everyone else has to die for his friends to be safe, Minhyuk would gladly burn the world to ashes.

“They’ll be okay,” Kihyun says, even though he can’t know that. The guards don’t always hurt, and only rarely kill — but you never know when it could happen, or to whom. 

Minhyuk watches in silence as Jooheon leads the way, hands in his pockets, casual and unafraid. Hyunwoo follows, his steps just as sure and with purpose.

And behind them — Hyungwon. Beautiful, delicate Hyungwon, with his curly hair and big, doe eyes. He shouldn’t be there. He doesn’t have Hyunwoo’s strength and speed, or Jooheon’s sheer bravado and aggression. He’s gentle and kind and Minhyuk is terrified of the day that the world will chew him up and spit him out.

Jooheon pushes his way through the guards so he can stand between them and the shoe sellers. Hyunwoo does the same, aims his fingers like a gun at one of the guards. Jooheon, meanwhile, presses his forehead against the barrel of one of the guard’s rifles. Minhyuk doesn’t need to be there to be able to imagine the defiant, challenging glint in Jooheon’s eyes. 

Fucking  _ idiots, _ Minhyuk thinks. They’re all fucking  _ fools  _ if they think this isn’t going to get all of them killed one day.

Hyungwon’s been hanging back thus far, and that’s the only thing that Minhyuk can be grateful for. So when he sees Hyungwon pull a flower out of his pocket, and skip forward towards one of the guards on the edge of the group, his breath hitches in his throat.

“Hyung,” Changkyun says, from where he’s sitting by Minhyuk’s feet. It's like he can sense Minhyuk's mounting terror. Changkyun has a sixth sense like that, maybe from being the youngest, always running after and looking up at his hyungs. He nudges at Minhyuk's leg. “It’ll be fine — they’re not fighting or anything.”

That’s never stopped the militia from being violent before. But Minhyuk knows that Changkyun knows this, and they’re all well aware that denial is the only thing they can cling to to keep them sane. He doesn’t say anything.

Hyungwon brings the flower to his lips like he’s kissing it, then reaches out and slips it into the front pocket of the guard’s vest. The guard’s head dips as his eyes follow the movement of Hyungwon’s hands, then raises again to stare at Hyungwon as he backs away. 

There’s a long, tense, moment when the guard just stares at Hyungwon, and Minhyuk forgets to breathe for the entire time. 

Then the guard turns to the others, gestures at the flower in his breast pocket, and suddenly the encounter is over as quickly as it had begun. The guards file out — though not before overturning the shoe seller’s stall. Jooheon spits at them as they leave, but they don’t even look back at him.

Hoseok gets to his feet abruptly. Minhyuk looks up at him. He glances at them, then back at the town. “Come on,” he says, his voice tight and sounding like it’s on the verge of cracking, “let’s go get them.”

Changkyun helps Kihyun up, and Minhyuk scrambles to standing. He looks at his friends, at the pinched looks on their faces. They’re all scared, he realises. Every single one of them.

  
  


* * *

  
  


There’s an archway on the edge of town, underneath the railway tracks. It’s where the citizens dump their unwanted furniture, but it’s turned into a sort of hang out spot for them. The guards don’t usually come this far from the town centre, past all the residential areas.

It’s where they gather, after. 

Hyungwon is already there when Minhyuk arrives. He’s sitting on an old dresser, arms on his knees, eyes fixed on the group. Jooheon is standing on top of the metal cabinet, the one he always climbs on top of to give his  _ ‘tear down society’ _ speeches. 

“You guys need to stop being so bold,” Kihyun says as he approaches, dropping heavily into a rattan chair. “It’s not safe.”

“None of us is safe, ever,” Jooheon replies fiercely.

Minhyuk glares at Jooheon. “Shut the fuck up,” he snaps. He loves Jooheon, but this is dangerous and they’re not going to be this lucky — if  _ lucky _ is even the right word — forever. He sits down next to Hyungwon, who still hasn’t moved a muscle or looked up.

“What was that flower?” Hoseok asks, and Minhyuk thinks he’s just trying to change the topic of conversation at first, but when he glances over, he can see a weird look in Hoseok’s eyes. Hoseok’s studying Hyungwon intently. “The moment you took it out — the guards looked — I don’t know. Afraid.”

Hyungwon’s gaze flicks up from the dusty ground. “I don’t know,” he says, “I found them in my back garden yesterday. This morning — the entire patch had been uprooted. The ground burnt.”

Next to Minhyuk, Kihyun makes a noise of surprise. “What? Why would that—”

He breaks off abruptly, eyes alighting on something in the distance, and Minhyuk whips his head around. A group of middle aged men are advancing towards them.

“Where’s my piece of shit son?”

Minhyuk clenches his jaw. He can sense, rather than see, Hyungwon go rigid next to him. 

Hyungwon’s father is the head of their town, which is just a way of saying he's the crony installed by the state to keep all of them in line. How such a vile man could be related to someone as kind and gentle as Hyungwon is absolutely beyond Minhyuk.

Hyunwoo and Hoseok are leaping to their feet, and Minhyuk does the same.

“What do you want?” Hyungwon asks, still not moving, his voice as calm and flat as always, but Minhyuk can hear the undertone of tension. Minhyuk notices everything about Hyungwon, every little inflection of his voice and twitch of his muscles. 

“Where did you find that flower?” 

That vile man is clutching the state regulations to his chest, the book that’s treated like a holy text because religion is one of the best ways to keep people suppressed. It has the mark of the state on it, a thick cross, crudely drawn on in white paint. Behind Hyungwon’s father, the rest of the town elders stand, tittering to themselves. Minhyuk hates them.

“What does it matter?” Hyungwon spits, pushing himself to his feet. “What could you possibly—”

When his father storms forward and slaps Hyungwon, so hard that it sounds more like a blow from a club, Minhyuk doesn’t move. He doesn’t say or do anything, just stands frozen in place next to Hyungwon, ice flooding his veins.

“Don’t  _ ever _ touch those flowers again,” that man snarls, “or I’ll make you, and all of your little friends, pay.” And then he’s turning and going clomping down the street, those pathetic town elders following behind him.

Hyungwon watches them go. He’s silent and still.

Minhyuk watches Hyungwon, feeling like they’re all on the brink of disaster.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Where are we going?”

Thorns scratch at Minhyuk’s calves as he picks his way through the dense undergrowth. It’s too dark to see anything except the faintest outlines of the trees in the dim moonlight. Minhyuk’s on edge, constantly waiting for a fleet of guards to leap out from behind the trees, guns and batons drawn.

He shakes the thought away. It’s the middle of the night, and they’ve snuck out into the forests many times before, at all times of day. Never mind the fact that this is far, far further from home than any of them have ever gone. Minhyuk’s not even sure he can find his way back.

“What does Jooheon want?” Kihyun asks, from where he’s bringing up the rear with Changkyun. “And, more importantly, why couldn’t we have done this at a more normal time?”

Hoseok, at the front of the line with Hyunwoo, glances back. “You’ll see,” he says cryptically, “but I promise it’s worth it.”

“Does this have anything to do with why the two of you have been disappearing loads recently?”

This time, Hoseok ignores Kihyun. The six of them continue to trample through the thick carpet of twigs and leaves, until finally — between the trees, Minhyuk sees some sort of domed shed, tarp stretched out between metal slats reflecting the moonlight.

Minhyuk wants to ask what that is, but he can’t find the words. Surprisingly enough, nor can anyone else. They approach the structure in rapturous silence. Minhyuk can hear his blood thrumming in his ears. The air smells weird, and it takes Minhyuk a few confused moments before he realises — it smells  _ clean.  _ There isn’t the usual lingering smell of sulphur and decay that hangs over the town. The air is oddly, unnaturally, fresh. Breathing in doesn’t make his lungs sting. He takes a few long, slow inhales as they step up towards the entrance to the hut. His skin tingles.

“Now,” Hoseok is saying as he goes to pull aside the heavy tarp covering the entrance, and Minhyuk is almost startled to hear him speak, he had been so lost in the strange, other-worldly sensation that had overcome him. “Just let Jooheon explain everything.”

Minhyuk ducks his head and steps into the shed. 

The inside of the shed is larger than he’d expected, but he supposes he hadn’t really been able to see it properly in the darkness outside. There’s a small fire on an upturned wooden crate in the middle of the room, on top of which some sort of metal bowl is resting. Glass beakers of various shapes and sizes sit on the crate, and smaller crates have been arranged around the fire like seats. 

Seven seats. For the seven of them.

Minhyuk blinks. A shiver runs up and down his spine.

Jooheon’s standing behind the fire, and he holds his arms out to welcome them. Dramatic as ever, but Minhyuk doesn’t even have it in him to tease. He parts his lips to ask a question, but realises that he has no idea what he wants to ask.

“Sit down,” Jooheon says, grandly, like he’s addressing a congregation. They shuffle to take their places, and still no one has said a word. Minhyuk sits next to Hyungwon, the two of them directly facing Jooheon. There’s a liquid gently bubbling in the bowl over the fire, a translucent blue that swirls and shimmers. Minhyuk can’t take his eyes off it.

“There’s a reason the guards were so frightened of the flower that Hyungwon gave them,” Jooheon starts, without introduction or preamble. Minhyuk gets the sense that he’s practiced this speech before. “There’s a reason the patch of ground behind Hyungwon’s house was burned after he found the flower there.” He pauses for effect. Minhyuk finally lifts his eyes from the flame to stare at Jooheon. There’s a slightly glazed look in his eyes. He gestures with his arms. “Look around you.”

That’s when Minhyuk realises, for the first time since entering the shed — the ground is covered with a luscious carpet of delicate blue flowers, each one with blooms that reach up to the sky and softly hanging buds. Minhyuk takes a deep inhale, fills his lungs with that fresh, faintly sweet, scent.

“The flowers have healing properties,” Jooheon says. “They can be eaten directly, or boiled and distilled into a liquid, or burned and the vapours inhaled.”

Kihyun makes a noise of mixed surprise and disapproval. “How do you know that?”

Hoseok, who’s sitting across from Kihyun, looks away from Jooheon to level Kihyun with an unblinking stare. “Because we’ve tried it.”

Changkyun lets out a gasp, and Hyunwoo’s eyes widen. Kihyun looks deeply upset by this. “You could have died.”

“Then that’s no different from our everyday lives.” 

Maybe it would be different if you didn’t put yourself at risk every single day, Minhyuk thinks bitterly, but he doesn’t say anything. He stares at the swirling blue liquid again, feeling like he’s being drawn into a whirlpool. 

“We think the flowers are spawning from a sort of... _ heart?”  _ Hoseok continues. “Jooheon and I have seen it, deeper in the forest, up the hills — it glows purple and hangs in the sky, like a moon of sorts…” He trails off, gaze lighting on his friends’ expressions. “You don’t believe us,” he says. It’s not a question.

Minhyuk blinks away from his trance, looks up to see Hoseok almost glaring at Kihyun, who’s giving him a deeply sceptical look, complete with raised eyebrow and all. Changkyun whips his head round to look at Kihyun, gives him a sharp elbow in the ribs. That wipes the disbelieving scowl off Kihyun’s face, at least.

“I knew you’d doubt us,” replies Jooheon, sounding perfectly calm and maybe even glad. 

Then he pulls out a knife, and slices through the palm of his hand.

Minhyuk yelps and scrambles to his feet, as does Changkyun. Blood drips from the gaping wound on Jooheon’s hand, onto the dirt at his feet. He’s wincing in pain, and Kihyun reaches out to help him, but Jooheon shakes his head and Kihyun shrinks away.

Hoseok hands Jooheon a glass beaker with a small amount of the swirling blue liquid in it. Jooheon holds his hand out, pours the blue liquid over the cut. It mixes with the blood, turns slightly purple. 

For a long few heartbeats, it feels like, nothing happens. They all stare, transfixed, at Jooheon’s hand, waiting for a miracle to happen. 

“What—” Kihyun starts. But he falls silent as abruptly as he’d started speaking.

The skin on Jooheon’s palm is slowly knitting itself back together, the blood congealing and crusting into an angry looking scab, and then finally fading and smoothing out until it just looks like a long-forgotten scar.

Kihyun raises his gaze slowly, in a mix of shock and awe, to stare at Jooheon. “What—” he says again, trailing off.

Jooheon flexes his fingers experimentally, like he’s testing to see if the wound has healed properly. When he’s satisfied with the result, he looks into the bubbling bowl of blue liquid and clenches his hand into a fist.

“This could save us all,” he says.

For the first time in his life, Minhyuk thinks he might believe it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Two.**

Purple is all that Minhyuk sees. The overhead lights are a cold white, but the flowers emanate a thick heady smoke that stains everything violet. Minhyuk blinks, watches as the shapes in front of his eyes melt together like paint.

Jooheon’s saying something. Minhyuk drags his eyes up from the fire, blinking slowly as afterimages shift beneath his eyelids. He watches as Jooheon throws his head back, arms wide like wings, the very image of salvation.

The sounds coming out of Jooheon’s mouth are muffled, blending into each other, and Minhyuk has to strain to understand. He hears, “the beating heart in the sky”, and “rise up and escape this oppressive illusion”, and something about “fighting to grasp the truth”.

They’ve all seen the heart, now. In those intoxicated nights they sometimes wander the forests, and the pulsating purple heart flickers in and out of view in the sky. Kihyun, and even Hyunwoo, think that it’s just a hallucination, that the flowers have a hallucinatory effect. But they’ve seen it too, even if they don’t believe it.

Minhyuk’s seen it as well. He doesn’t know what it is, but looking at it makes him feel — alive. Like the heart up there beating away is  _ his own heart, _ and he can feel the rhythmic thumps in his chest, pumping a thick purple liquid that smells like flowers all through his veins. Is it real? He has no idea. It certainly feels real enough, but he supposes anything could feel real if you really wanted it to.

The truth is, Minhyuk has no idea what is going on, he never did and now even less so than before. But he’s warm, his skin is tingling, and Hyungwon is pressed up against his side. This might be the closest approximation of something almost akin to happiness that Minhyuk’s ever felt. He closes his eyes, leans more of his weight into Hyungwon. He feels Hyungwon lean into him slightly in return, and his heart flutters, a fragile butterfly taking to the skies.

He opens his eyes as Hoseok nudges him from his other side. Takes the metal bowl into his hands gratefully, inhales the intoxicating aroma deeply and lets it curl its tendrils around his brain. He takes a long drink, and the warm liquid somehow manages to feel cool as it slides down the back of his throat. It sparks like lightning from the heavens, electricity ricocheting through his veins. 

As he hands it to Hyungwon, their fingers touch, cupped around the bowl. Minhyuk lets himself linger. He raises his gaze to meet Hyungwon’s, tumbles as if falling from a cliff into those infinite depths of Hyungwon’s eyes. When Hyungwon smiles at him, the fireworks in his gut explode and shudder across his skin.

Across the circle, he watches as Changkyun lifts his head from Kihyun’s shoulder. Watches the two of them lock eyes, watches the moment that Changkyun tips his head forward to press their foreheads together. It’s all too intimate, too precious and delicate a moment, and Minhyuk feels suddenly like an intruder for looking.

And then, like a miracle, he watches as Kihyun’s wide-eyed and enchanted, breaks into a smile. The corners of his lips raise ever so slightly, and Changkyun smiles shyly at him in return.

Minhyuk blinks, and looks away. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d seen Kihyun smile.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Good things were never made to last.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Minhyuk climbs the worn stone steps, skin prickling in the dusty air. 

It’s late in the day, but now that they’re sneaking out to the forests almost every night, Minhyuk typically ends up sleeping the whole morning away. He has something to look forward to now — but it just makes the daytimes that much more unbearable, just waiting for the sun to set so that they can run into the trees and try to grasp some wisps of what it means to be free.

He crests the top step, squints against the harsh sunlight. Kihyun is sitting on the low stone wall, legs stretched out in front of him. His crutches are leaning against the wall beside him. Changkyun’s been trying to convince him to try walking without the crutches — he thinks that the flower potion that healed the cut on Jooheon’s hand that first night will do the same for Kihyun’s legs. Kihyun has refused to even try. 

It makes Changkyun mad, but Minhyuk thinks he understands. If Kihyun tries, and it turns out that his legs still don’t work right — what then?

It’s the hope that kills you, after all.

Minhyuk nods his head in hello. He can’t bring himself to even smile. The tiredness, built up over almost twenty years of trying to stay alive in a world that doesn’t give a shit about him, has bled into his bones.

“Where are the others?” he asks, dropping to sit down next to Kihyun. Hoseok is standing across from them, kicking at pebbles on the path, but the others are nowhere to be seen. It’s not unusual, for those three to be missing — but Minhyuk likes to think that they’ve been going on those “street patrols” a bit less now. Even if they’re just trying to protect the vulnerable, Minhyuk doesn’t like the idea of his friends putting themselves in danger like that.

Kihyun doesn’t look at him. “Hyunwoo hyung’s grandfather is in the hospital,” he says, and his voice is weary, wearier than Minhuyk’s heard it in a while.

“Fuck.” Minhyuk’s eyes widen, and he glances up at Hoseok, then turns to Kihyun and Changkyun. The hospital — any form of healthcare, really — isn’t for people like them. “How could he afford it?”

“He can’t,” comes Kihyun’s toneless reply. “His grandfather had a stroke last night, and Hyunwoo hyung begged the hospital to treat him. He promised that he’d find a way to pay.”

There’s no way. Minhyuk doesn’t know how much the treatment would have cost, but he knows enough. He knows that it will be more money than all of them have — collectively — ever seen in their entire lives. 

Hoseok gives a sharp-edged pebble a particularly vicious kick. It skips across the uneven surface of the path, tumbles down the stairs. “Jooheon’s been gone all morning,” he adds. “Says he’s going to help — whatever that means.”

Minhyuk grimaces. He’s not sure he wants to know, and he only prays that Jooheon will be careful. 

“Hyungwon’s gone with them, too?” 

He only asks to make conversation. Where Jooheon goes, Hyungwon always follows.

But, at this, Kihyun looks up at him. “Don’t know where Hyungwon is,” he says, cautiously. “Haven’t seen him all day.”

And that’s it itself is not out of the ordinary. They’re not  _ always  _ together, all of them.

Yet something makes Minhyuk’s blood run cold. He gets to his feet, glances wide-eyed at his friends.

“I have to go find him,” he says. 

And then he runs.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hyungwon lives on the opposite side of town, in an old complex of traditional buildings. His father has always hated him, so he’s forced to live in a side building, sleeping on a threadbare mattress on the cold ground. It’s not fair, but it’s made it easy for Minhyuk to go see him. Makes it easy now.

Minhyuk slips round the side of the town elders’ houses, creeps through the shrubbery, skin prickling with unease. Something feels  _ off,  _ and he doesn’t know what it is but he’s terrified that it’s Hyungwon.

So when he slides open the lattice paper screen doors to Hyungwon’s room, and sees Hyungwon sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, he almost cries out with relief.

But the relief quickly gives way to fear, the same fear that has seeped into his skin, the fear that settles in his lungs and lives in his pores. Hyungwon’s wearing a white mask over his head, with crude holes cut out for his eyes and his mouth. 

It’s the mask that state prisoners wear on their way to meet the firing squad. 

“What — why are you wearing that?” Minhyuk drops to his hands and knees in front of Hyungwon. In his logical mind, he takes in the fact that Hyungwon’s still in his house, isn’t handcuffed or otherwise restrained, and concludes that Hyungwon can’t have been arrested or anything like that. But still — the fear. There’s always the fear.

“Minhyuk? What are you doing here?” Hyungwon looks up at him, but doesn’t explain the mask. Nor does he move to remove it. It’s a very rudimentary form of the mask, Minhyuk realises, almost homemade. He can see Hyungwon’s eyes, the shuttered look in them.

He shifts, sits down cross-legged across from Hyungwon so that their knees touch. “Why are you wearing that?” he asks again. 

Hyungwon doesn’t reply. He looks down into his lap.

Minhyuk’s chest feels tight, and hot. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he knows that he  _ hates it,  _ hates everything about the world, hates how it makes Hyungwon get that glazed over look in his eyes, like he has to escape to somewhere else deep inside his mind because he can’t be  _ here. _

“Hyungwon, please,” Minhyuk says, and he hears his own voice falter and he hates that too, the fact that he’s not strong enough to protect Hyungwon, to protect all of them. He reaches out one hand to pull off the mask, but Hyungwon pushes his arm away.

“It’s nothing.”

Except it’s not nothing. It’s something, it’s always something, and Minhyuk can’t go on ignoring all the crap that’s going on around him. He can feel the tension coiling in his chest, the tears prickling at the back of his eyes. He blinks them away fiercely.

“Hyungwon,” he says again, firmly, even though he’s trembling, his fingers are trembling, as he slowly brings his hands up towards the mask. 

This time, Hyungwon doesn’t push him away. Just sits there with his head slightly bowed, eyes cast towards the side, shoulders slightly hunched. He’s the tallest of them all, but right now he looks so small, so defeated, and Minhyuk’s heart aches.

He tugs the mask off Hyungwon’s face, slowly at first. But then he sees the cut on Hyungwon’s lip, blood already crusting in the corner of his mouth, and starts to feel frantic. He peels the mask off fully, shock setting in as he takes in Hyungwon’s face. His skin, marred by cuts where dark red blood has dried in the wound. Deep purple bruises on his cheekbones. And that broken, hollow look in his eyes.

Hyungwon doesn’t look at him. His eyes flicker towards the mask in Minhyuk’s hand. “He knew we were up to something, knew that I’ve been disappearing at night,” he says, quietly. “He made me wear that so he wouldn’t have to see my face when he was beating me.”

Minhyuk feels like time has dragged to a crawl. He’s about to implode with pure, blinding rage — presses down on him, suffocating him, making him feel too tightly wound and too spread out at the same time. He wonders if this is how Jooheon feels all the time. 

Slowly, uncertainly, Hyungwon raises his gaze to look him in the eye. 

“Minhyuk,” he says, and his voice is breathy, “don’t do anything stupid—”

Something inside Minhyuk snaps. He pushes himself off the ground, scrambles to his feet. “We have to go,” he grits out. His fingers clench into a fist around the mask. “We have to get out of here.”

This isn’t the first time Minhyuk has suggested to Hyungwon that they run away. But Hyungwon has always said no.  _ Where would we go, _ he’d say. And Minhyuk wouldn’t answer, because he had no idea either.

But this time, Hyungwon just nods almost imperceptibly, gaze still cast down. Minhyuk hesitates for a moment, then he’s stepping away and out into the blazing heat of the afternoon, ready to set the world on fire.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Minhyuk’s mind is filled with an endless, overlapping chatter, a frenzy of all his fears and deepest anxieties amalgamated with years upon years of suppressed rage. He storms across town, fists clenched so tightly his nails are digging into his palm, heart thumping as heavily as its purple counterpart in the sky.

When he gets back to the place where he’d left his friends, he finds that Jooheon and Hyunwoo have returned. The brief moment of relief he feels to see that they’re okay is quickly replaced with that same old gnawing panic when he realises that they’re angry. All of them, Kihyun especially — but even Hoseok, even Changkyun.

“What the hell is going on?” Minhyuk snaps, patience a rubber band about to snap. He doesn’t have time for this, for whatever they’re bickering about.

Jooheon snaps his gaze over to Minhyuk. He’s clutching a burlap sack in his right hand, Minhyuk realises. There’s something angular and oddly-shaped inside it, poking against the sides of the sack. He doesn’t know what’s in there but a sense of foreboding starts to fill him.

“Tell Kihyun hyung to stop being such a fucking coward for once in his life,” Jooheon says harshly, gesturing with his free hand at Kihyun, who’s leaning heavily against one crutch, the other one fallen to the ground.

“It’s not cowardly to be realistic,” Kihyun hisses in return. 

Jooheon scoffs. “Yeah, well, look where that got you.”

A gasp. Minhyuk looks at Hoseok, whose eyes have gone wide. “Jooheon, don’t—” Hoseok starts, but Kihyun cuts him off.

“Are you suggesting that I got my legs broken because I refused to, what —  _ dream big?” _ His voice has gone all quiet now, and Minhyuk would be scared, except he feels like he’s gone past the point of being scared. His whole body is numb, his limbs feel thick and heavy and his tongue is lead in his mouth.

Jooheon doesn’t back down. “You could  _ walk  _ now, if you wanted,” he says. “The flowers have fixed you. But you won’t believe.”

Kihyun narrows his eyes. “The flowers don’t do anything except distract us from the sad, fucking truth that is our lives.”

“No, the flowers open our eyes to the truth,” Jooheon shoots back. “You have to  _ believe.” _

“You’re evading the point.”

“This  _ is  _ the point. This is what matters.”

Kihyun scowls. “No, what matters is—” then he breaks off, eyes darting furtively around, before he lowers his voice to a hard whisper. “What matters is the fact that you have  _ guns _ in that bag.”

Minhyuk turns to stare at Jooheon. His grip tightens on the burlap sack, which he seems to instinctively pull closer to his body, but he doesn’t deny it. There really are guns in that bag.

“Where did you even get guns?” Changkyun asks plaintively. He looks torn, gaze flicking between Jooheon and Kihyun as he speaks.

“I have my contacts,” comes the vague reply. Jooheon refuses to say a single word more about that, shaking his head stubbornly when pressed for details. 

Kihyun looks like he’s about to explode again when Hyunwoo clears his throat, and everyone falls silent. He’s yet to speak, but when he does — it commands all of their attention.

“It’s not Jooheon’s fault,” says Hyunwoo, his voice calm but firm, “I asked him for help — he’s going to help me rob a store so we can pay off my grandpa’s hospital bills. So he can finally go home.”

A silence falls. Minhyuk wonders if they’re afraid. He guesses not. They’ve never been afraid. Minhyuk’s starting to understand what that’s like.

“What if you get in trouble?” Hoseok asks, when no one speaks up. “You can’t just — rob a store.”

Jooheon shrugs. “People get robbed all the time. The militia only do something when it’s someone rich or powerful who gets hurt. But—” He hesitates, then sighs. “Just in case, I’ve been — getting in touch with people. Making a plan.”

“What kind of plan?”

Jooheon narrows his eyes at Kihyun. “What kind of plan do you think? I’m getting us out of here.”

Something clicks in Minhyuk’s mind, and his heart plummets like a stone. “Is that why — Hyungwon’s dad knew something was up. Is this why? You’ve been going around  _ asking questions?” _

“Maybe,” Jooheon says, and his callousness makes Minhyuk want to punch him. He grits his teeth. This isn’t Jooheon’s fault, no matter how much it feels like it is. And besides, he gets it now. He really does.

“So,” Minhyuk says, quietly, “these contacts of yours. Can they get you gasoline?”

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s not difficult, in the end. 

The town elders are bullies, but — like with most people in power — they’re complacent. The militia are nowhere to be seen, probably out terrorising innocents, and it’s easy enough for Minhyuk to sneak through the bushes behind the town hall, emptying his container of gasoline into the grass, against the concrete, even spilling some into open windows. Around the other sides of the building, he knows that Changkyun and Hoseok are doing the same.

His skin and shoes reek of gasoline by the time he’s done, and the oil sticks to him like a film, but Minhyuk doesn’t feel the slightest bit of discomfort. He feels, for the first time in his life, like he can stand up tall. His heart is hammering against his ribs, but he breathes in the noxious fumes and somehow it smells like freedom. 

They wait behind the railway bridge until the sun sets, then Changkyun climbs a tree and flicks a lit match into the undergrowth, and the fire blossoms like a rose. They stand on the dusty street, watching from a distance as the town hall burns, a blaze that rages cold compared to the fury in their hearts.

Minhyuk thinks that this is the beginning of the end.

He is, in many ways, correct.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next morning, Minhyuk goes to see Hyungwon.

He finds the boy he loves, pale as snow and colder, far colder, eyes shut and face underwater in a cracked bathtub.

Minhyuk cries until his heart shatters, then tips the last of the flower potion into the water. He’d started carrying the potion with him everywhere like a good luck charm, but he never wanted to use it like this. Never like this.

When he climbs into the bathtub with Hyungwon, presses his face into the water and against Hyungwon’s shoulder, he realises that maybe this was the only escape ever available to them after all.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Three.**

The first thing Minhyuk becomes conscious of is the sirens. The repeating, blaring klaxon of the sirens, looping overhead, piercing into his consciousness. He winces in pain.

The next thing — the fact that he’s feeling pain. His ears burn from the overwhelming sound of the sirens, but there’s more. There’s the ache in his legs, like he’s been running for weeks on end. There’s the intermittent throb of pain scattered across his body, like bruises responding to his movement. There’s a sting on his cheek like an exposed wound. There’s so much pain, everywhere, and yet — Minhyuk finds his heart singing to feel it.

He grips the object in his hands more tightly, and that’s when he even realises that he’s holding something. When he looks down, he sees that it’s a rifle. A while rifle, clutched to his chest.

And he’s not lying down — he’s running. He’s stomping in big heavy white combat boots through dense undergrowth, while sirens scream and ash flutters down from the sky like snow. The air smells of smoke and sulphur.

He can see people in front of him, blurry but coming into view. “Where are we?” he blurts out, and his voice sounds thick, like he’s been asleep and hasn’t used it in a while. “Where are we?” he repeats, for good measure.

In front of him, someone turns. It’s Kihyun. 

Minhyuk blinks. Kihyun doesn’t have his crutches.

“We’re almost there,” Kihyun says, which doesn’t explain anything. Where are they going? What is going on?

Minhyuk has too many questions, so instead he just asks the first one that pops into his mind — “Where are your crutches?”

Kihyun’s expression flickers. “Don’t need them anymore,” he says.

Minhyuk’s about to complain that that doesn’t explain anything, when a piercing pain shoots through his head. He yelps out, clutches his temple, doubling over from the sheer agony ripping through him. 

There are lights flashing in his vision, white and grey and black. He sees the ash falling like snow. He sees a road, thick with clouds of dust, and then feet, feet pounding on the surface. His vision clears slightly, and then he sees — Kihyun’s running, stumbling with his crutches at first, then going more quickly, then throwing his crutches to the ground. He can see the exhilaration and terror in Kihyun’s eyes, and he feels it course through his own veins.

When the pain subsides, and Minhyuk stands up again shakily, he sees Kihyun watching him. Kihyun, with the white fatigues that Minhyuk realises he’s also wearing, holding that same pristine white rifle.

“What is this?” Minhyuk asks. “Is this real?”

Kihyun stares at him, expressionless. He seems to be considering whether or not to answer. Finally, he does.

“Does it matter?” he replies.

Minhyuk supposes not.

He looks around. Ahead of them, he can see — their friends, he supposes. He can make out Jooheon and Hyunwoo, leading the way, in those same white outfits. They’re pushing their way through the leaves and vines and ducking beneath fallen concrete structures. Behind them, Changkyun and Hoseok follow, eyes scanning towards the sides of the ground, rifles held pointing low but very clearly at the ready. And — Hyungwon?

Minhyuk can feel his panic rising again. “Hyungwon?” he asks, gaze darting around, pleading silently for Hyungwon to magically appear beside him. “Where’s Hyungwon?”

Kihyun gives him a firm look, grips his shoulder. “Hyungwon left before us,” he says, “you have to find him. You have the flower, yeah?”

And even though Minhyuk doesn’t know what the hell Kihyun is talking about, somehow — he does. He feels the weight of the flower in his breast pocket. Pats his chest to indicate that it’s there. 

“Now go,” Kihyun says, giving Minhyuk a firm slap on the shoulder. “Go find him.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Minhyuk is lost. The ashes keep falling and the world has turned grey. The plants have intertwined with the toppled concrete structures and it’s hard to make his way through the undergrowth, picking around the obstacles, all the while feeling like he’s being hunted.

But he follows where he feels he needs to go. To find Hyungwon.

He doesn’t know where he is, or how much time has passed, but when he finds Hyungwon — it’s like his soul  _ knows. _ He feels a warm golden aura pulsing from a concrete block that’s formed a sort of cave in the distance, and Minhyuk doesn’t understand any of this, but then again, what does it matter? He’s got to find Hyungwon.

So he scrambles through the forest, stumbling and falling onto his hands and knees a few times, until he sees — Hyungwon. Slumped against the concrete slab, eyes gently closed like he’s asleep. 

Minhyuk thinks he calls out, maybe, or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it’s just his soul screaming as it launches him forward, closer, until he can touch Hyungwon, hold his cheek — ice cold — in his palm.

“Hyungwon,” he says, mumbles, pleading desperately, “Hyungwon, Hyungwon.”

The flower.

He remembers it in time. Slips the flower, its delicate blue petals gleaming in the colourless world, out of his pocket. It seems to be singing to him.

“Please,” Minhyuk murmurs, “please, please please—”

He thumbs at Hyungwon’s lip to pull his mouth open. Gently slides the flower onto his tongue, then presses his mouth closed. Nudges at Hyungwon’s throat, tears blurring his vision, until finally — he sees Hyungwon swallow.

When Hyungwon opens his eyes, there is a beautiful glow in them. He stares at Minhyuk for the longest time, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. 

And then —

“Sorry,” Hyungwon says, “sorry I scared you.”

Minhyuk wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “No, shut up,” he replies, chest tightening as he cups Hyungwon’s face in his hands. “Shut up, I love you.”

Hyungwon smiles, slowly first, then more widely, like a sun cresting the horizon.

“Oh,” he says, “I love you too.”

Then Minhyuk presses their lips together, and Hyungwon tastes like flowers.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The purple heart in the sky glows like a giant, pulsing, moon. Up close, the heart is almost grotesque, a massive ball of muscle and veins, twisting and throbbing like it’s alive. But it’s also beautiful, and Minhyuk can’t help but stare up at it in awe, speechless. He can sense his friends around him doing the same. 

They’ve made it. They’re here.

The sirens have stopped blaring. There are no more ashes falling from the sky. Everything is clean and quiet and perfect in the dark.

The air around them is thick with the scent of flowers.

Minhyuk closes his eyes, breathes in.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've long wanted to do an All In au (ever since the first time I watched it, basically), but I've struggled for so long with figuring out the plot because tbh when you think too closely about it, the mv doesn't make a huge amount of sense. the timelines are all mixed up, and it's hard to tell what's real and what's not. but then the thought struck me - maybe the blurred lines between reality and dream need to be a *part* of the story. 
> 
> and hence, this fic was born. it's also why the fic gets more and more dreamlike and less concrete as the story goes on (ahem, concrete structures collapsing paralleling the way everything solid and real is falling apart, cough I love symbolism), not to mention the flower/drug they're taking is clearly messing with their minds... 
> 
> and the ending is ambiguous because I think that's an important part what this story means to everyone - is the final escape real or part of minhyuk's dream? or was the dystopian world an illusion used to keep them trapped, and the escape is the actual reality? who knows?? I certainly don't. dear mx & creators of the mv, pls explain!!
> 
> while we wait for mx to reply on that, I'd love to hear what you thought! pls leave a comment, or come talk to me at [twitter](https://twitter.com/saturnalyia) or [curious cat](https://curiouscat.qa/saturnalyia)


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